


growing up is optional (growing old is mandatory)

by Ford_Ye_Fiji



Series: Whumptober 2020 [14]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Kinda?, Number Five | The Boy Has Issues, Number Five | The Boy Needs A Hug, Number Five | The Boy is So Done, Stressed Number Five | The Boy, Wow he needs a hug, but to be fair I put that tag on every fic, he always needs a hug, he could be sitting at a table minding his business and I’d be like
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-10-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:47:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27138916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ford_Ye_Fiji/pseuds/Ford_Ye_Fiji
Summary: Day 21: Chronic painBeing a senior citizen does not come without it's aches and pains.
Series: Whumptober 2020 [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1947877
Comments: 8
Kudos: 133
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	growing up is optional (growing old is mandatory)

**Author's Note:**

> Unofficial continuation of this idea: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21673342
> 
> (Look old man Five is an underrated concept!)

Five’s fingers flexed around the steering wheel and he hissed reflexively. Klaus peered at him, over the back of the passenger seat as he tilted his head and asked cautiously, “Uh, you okay there old man?” 

Five glowered at him from under bushy eyebrows, lips pulling down before he decided not to give his brother an answer. 

Luther eyed them both, hands folded in front of him. 

Klaus’s lips twisted, leaning his back to sigh dramatically at the ceiling of the van, “So uh. How old did you say you were exactly?” 

He didn’t even look over at them, gaze still stubbornly fixed on the Meritech building, “Fifty-eight. Give or take. Time wasn’t exactly easy to keep track of in the apocalypse.” 

Luther raised a hand, “Uh, about that-“ 

Five eyed him this time as Luther asked, “Uh, but, well. Never mind.” 

Five rolled his eyes, the motion almost distressingly comforting in how much it reminded them of the foul mouthed thirteen year old brother that they had once known, “Spit it out, Luther.” 

Klaus sighed, with less pomp and circumstance this time, taking matters into his own hands, “Well, you’re significantly wheezier. And Ah, you limp? Are you hurt? Did you bust your hip?” 

Five scoffed, “Of course.” He leaned forward, craning his neck, short frame unable to see as far as he wanted over the van’s dashboard, “I don’t see why that’s any of your business.” 

Luther scratched the back of his head, “Well, the last time we saw Number Five, he didn’t have asthma. So, you know, how are we sure you’re the _real_ Number Five? You could just be some crazy old man.”

Five turned to face him, lifting an eyebrow, “Alright _fine_ . It’s called occupational asthma, _asshole_. I breathed in all sorts of shit for over forty years. That’s ash, that’s everything in the world burning. That’s toxic chemical fumes. We’re lucky my lungs haven’t just given the fuck up.” 

He glared at Klaus, lips pulling down with displeasure at being forced to open up to people, “I broke my leg in three places when I was twenty-four and then didn’t set it right because I knew jack shit about setting bones. Haven’t broken my hip, yet, but we’ll put that on the list.” He turned back to face the front of the car again, hissing, “And I can’t sit in this stupid _fucking_ car without my damn _back_ hurting like a _bitch_.” 

Luther blinked, Klaus wincing as Five pushed open the door and scooted out, legs dangling for a moment as he snapped one last time, “You’ve also completely overlooked the fact that I can teleport. I don’t think some crazy stranger would be able to do _that_. But what should I expect from someone whose brain is smaller than a pea?” 

Klaus opened his mouth and, as if he could read minds, Five spoke over him, “ _And_ if I hear one more quip about being short, Klaus, I’ll shove that scarf so far up your ass, you’ll be spitting feathers for weeks. Malnutrition isn’t a joke.” 

He slammed the door so hard the car shook and stalked away, shoving his hands in his pockets. He stormed down the sidewalk, snarling at anyone who brushed past him. 

Klaus scratched his head, “Geez, was he always such a short fuse?” 

Luther shrugged, brows furrowing, “I think so. He was always kinda cranky.” He hummed thoughtfully, “Small and cranky, like a chihuahua.” 

Klaus choked on a laugh and then immediately composed himself, trying to look contrite, “Sorry. That wasn’t funny.”

Unfortunately, Number Five wasn’t there to appreciate the apology. 

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is here: https://ford-ye-fiji.tumblr.com/


End file.
